


Beautiful And Ugly Words

by AmyNoodles



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Coma, Depression, Rape, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, achievement hunter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNoodles/pseuds/AmyNoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Gavin is in a coma, fighting for his life after an attempted suicide, the remaining members of AH discover Gavin's journal, detailing the two months leading up to the tragic event and the horrific events of his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A&E

***Chapter One***

“ _I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.” ― Audrey Hepburn_

“Fuck this bullshit, let me see him NOW!”

“Are you his relative, Mr Ramsey?”

“Well no – but he’s basically my son, I-“

“Then I am afraid that you’ll have to wait Sir, blood relative’s only.”

“Well that’s going to be pretty fucking difficult, his parents are in Britian!”

“Mr Ramsey, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down or you’ll be escorted out the building.”

A second man, younger in face and voice, appeared next to the near-hysterical tattooed man. “Geoff,” He said gently, his voice cracking, “Just wait. There is nothing you can do at the moment. Please, just come and sit with the rest of us. They need you, ok? We’ll see him when he’s better.”

Refusing too hide his unwillingness, Geoff, without taking eyes off the disgruntled nurse, manage to successfully state “Ok Michael,” without flying into another rage.

With an apologetic nod to the nurse, Michael lead Geoff to the A&E waiting room, where over the past half an hour, the terrified members of Achievement Hunter had gathered.

Even for onlookers, the sight was grim. Ray, often dubbed the “baby” of the group, was wailing into the arms of a solemn faced Jack, whose eyes were glazed over. Ryan was sitting on the other side of Ray, formally rubbing Michael’s arm in comfort before he left to find their boss Geoff, who was now furiously pacing the room, the manifestation of anxiety.

Michael sat down, his red and puffy eyes being to tear up again. Fighting back, he looked out the windows, a million and one thoughts rushing through his head. A long, pregnant pause, with the only noise being Ray’s sobs, was broken by said Puerto Rican’s hiccup.

Looking up at nobody in particular, he said, “How did we not notice? I mean, how could we be that fucking stupid?”

Geoff readied himself to answer, something along the lines off “How were we meant to know?” before the Doctor interrupted him.

“Gentlemen…” He began, taken aback by the sight of all the fully grown men who seemed to have reverted back to young children, only wishing the arms of someone bigger and older than them to hold them and say that everything would be alright.

“Is he ok? Will be he be alright?” Geoff stepped forward immediately.

“Obviously this is not the sort of environment that we should discuss in this in, if you would like to follow me, I can discuss it further in my office.”

“All of us?” Ryan’s deep voice echoed out from the corner, the first time he’d spoken up since arriving at the hospital.

There was a pause, but the doctor returned a sympathetic smile and said, “Certainly – all of you.”

With Jack supporting Ray, the men followed the doctor out of the emergency waiting room and through the double doors to his office.

* * *

 

The room was small, with only three seats. The doctors, mid-40s, greying hair, took one of them, and Ray and Michael occupied the other two.

Ray had begun to calm down, his hysteria dimmed into small hiccups and silent tears. Jack nonetheless kept his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them tightly; assuring him he was still there. Ryan, still for the most part silent, stood in the corner of the room, and Geoff paced three steps and turned, over and over, like clockwork.

“Now of course, there was some debate as to whether or not Mr Free had actually taken an overdose upon arriving to hospital-“

“Of course he fucking OD’d! He was passed out in my arms! Are you blind? He isn’t some bloody attention whore! Did you see his arms?” Geoff raged.

“Geoff.” Michael’s voice had an edge of warning about it, and his boss silenced.

“Uh hum, yes,” The doctor continued, “As standard procedure, we ran blood tests to determine if he has or not, and we can conclude that Mr. Free has taken an overdose,”

Ray, sensing Geoff was about to interrupt, said quietly, “Do you know how much?”

“Well of course we cannot make an accurate judgement, but it had been assumed that he took everything he could gain access too in that period of time, at least over 36,”

Ray made a choked noise, and his crying began to worsen. Geoff clenched his fist until it turned white, while the three remaining men hung their heads, chests tight with worry.

“Now, I do apologise for the bluntness of what I must ask, and the time that I ask it, but can we please go through the events of tonight when you discovered Mr. Free?”

Geoff sighed heavily. “It was me that found him.” He ran his hands over his face and sighed again, preparing his words. The rest of the group had yet to hear this story too, and he did not wish to further traumatise them.

“In the morning I received a call from Gavin saying he wouldn’t be in work, that he was very sick and just needed the day off, but if he felt up to it he’d be in during the afternoon. I told him that was fine – he isn’t normally sick you see – and left to go to work. He, uh, lives in a house in my garden, you see. So, um, he didn’t come in during the afternoon but I wasn’t too alarmed, because he hadn’t made a promise that he was going to come in and stuff. So yeah, after work I went to check up on him and see if he needed anything. He was passed out on his bed, and there was empty pill bottles scattered across the floor and at his feet, it was kinda like he was snoring but he was covered in vomit and I think he must have been choking on it-“

Geoff paused for a second to gain his composer, wiping tears from his eyes.

“He didn’t respond whatsoever, I was shaking him and yelling his name but he didn’t…he didn’t respond at all, until I began to touch his palm and scream. His eyes opened wide and he vomited again, and began seizing I think, I mean, I don’t know. So I just picked him up and ran to my car. My wife and daughter weren’t home yet, thank god. So then I brought him in here, and he got taken away, and that’s when I phoned these guys…”

Another pause.

“I only told them he attempted suicide.”

Ryan suddenly turned and exited the room. The men glanced at each other, until Michael stood up to follow the Mad King. Before leaving, he placed a hand on Geoff’s shoulder, then opened the door and walked out.

“Are they ok?” Ray whispered.

“Probably just trying to take it all in. We all are.” Jack rubbed the younger man’s back. It’s all he could do to comfort him.

“Just tell us what happened now,” Geoff begged.

“Of course. Mr. Free, due to the amount taken, had to have his stomach pumped. That involved placing a tube into down his throat and into his stomach, essentially forcing him to bring up what he had not already done so. He has stopped seizing, and has been put on oxygen and an IV drip to stop dehydration. As you know, we have already taken blood tests, and further tests are currently being done in regards to his liver damage,”

“Can we see him?” Ray pleaded. The doctor paused. Geoff sensed something was wrong.

“What happened?” He asked, the words “oh god no” nearly escaping his lips.

“With all regret, I must inform you that Mr. Free is currently in a coma.”

Ray screamed, returning to the hysteria that he was once at before. Jack stepped back, as if he had been punched in the stomach, while Geoff literally punched the wall, the plaster crumpling away at his knuckles.

“NO!”

The door opened, and Michael and Ryan returned.

“We heard noises. What happened to Gavin?”

“He’s only in a fucking coma,” Geoff finally broke down, taking a huge breath inbetween each forced word, “The dickheads in a fucking…coma,”

Ryan grabbed his boss, and held him, the men in the room all sobbing now.

“I want to see him,” Ray stuttered.

“Are you sure that is a good idea? The sight will be very shocking and-“

“Take us to see him. Now.” Geoff snapped from Ryan’s shoulder.

* * *

 

“Oh God…oh Gavin,”

The men gathered around the Brit’s bed. His eyes were shut, his body peaceful, with steady breaths, almost as if he were asleep. And he could have fooled someone of that, if it hadn’t been for the tubes leading into his nose and mouth, and what seemed like the endless needles sticking in him, leading to drips. A heart monitor beeping in the background assured the group that he was still there, fighting.

“I must warn you, if he wakes up, there could be a chance of brain damage. Prepare yourself for the worst.”

Geoff turned around and faced the doctor, “Gavin _will_ wake up. And if he has brain damage, I don’t give a shit. He still has a place with us and we will look after him until our last breath. The worst that is going to happen is he wakes up and I punch him for being such an idiot.”

The doctor nodded, and hurriedly left the room and away from the fuming man.


	2. The First Page

***Chapter Two***

_“Last Night I dreamt that somebody loved me, No hope, no harm, Just another false alarm,”_

-The Smiths

“Wait, wait, wait,” Geoff ran his hand through his hair, _it needs washed_ , he thought absently, “Tell me again,”

“Jack and I were in Gavin’s house, cleaning up and getting his clothes and things to remind him of home, because a sense of familiarity and comfort can encourage him to wake up, according to the nurse-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know that bit,”

Ryan nodded, and continued, the rest of the men listening in. “And I opened the drawer on his bedside cabinet and found a diary,”

“Gavin kept a diary?” Ray said to no one in particular, for about the tenth time.

“Seems so,” Michael bite his lip, “Should we read it? I mean, I know it’s his diary and stuff, but it might tell us why…you know,”

Gavin had been in his coma for two days now. Geoff and Ray had refused to leave his side. Ray slept in the armchair next to Gavin, but Geoff couldn’t sleep. He resented the younger man for being able to sleep at such a time. Griffon had visited yesterday, and broke down the second she stepped into the room. To spare Millie of any pain, they gently told her Gavin had when back to the UK for some period of time.

The rest of the company had all meandered in over the course of the two days, unsure of what to expect, and shedding tears when they saw. In such a short period of time, Gavin’s beside table was soon over thrown with flowers and get well soon cards and teddies.

Their fans did not yet know. Geoff was unsure about telling them, and the rest of AH seemed to agree. Regardless, they had enough material to last them a good three months, so this was the least of their issues at the moment.

“I think we should,” Jack suddenly said. The others looked over, inwardly surprised. Jack was typically the one to go with the flow, but he looked adamant, “I mean,” he continued, “We need to know what happened. For when he wakes up. So we know how to help him. He might not tell us otherwise,”

Geoff nodded, the others slowly agreeing too.

“Who reads it first then?” Michael sighed, seemingly in two minds about reading it.

“No,” Geoff shook his head, “We read it together. Starting tomorrow.”

No one argued.

* * *

 

**January 24th, 2014**

_Dear diary. Oh god. That sounds so gay. Haha, “dear diary”. Nah, I’m not writing that anymore. If Ray or Michael ever saw this, I’d never live it down._

_I’m not sure why I am keeping a diary to be perfectly honest. Mark – my therapist – said it might help me make sense of my feelings and have it as a release, instead of self-harming. I don’t understand however – I’ve not been depressed in three weeks and I haven’t cut or burned in a month at least._

_Nonetheless, I am doing this. I’m not sure how I’m meant to do this. Do I write about my day? My feelings? What if I have a day that is extremely boring and I have literally no significant feelings on way or another? I don’t want to waste my time writing about that. Oh well, I suppose I’ll see how things go._

_I think the only reason someone would read this is if I died – committed suicide perhaps. I’ve told Mark over and over again that I haven’t felt suicidal in at least two months. I’m not sure he believes me. Mark’s really nice I suppose, for a therapist anyway. His title is actually Dr. Cameron, but I’ve had him for so long we’re on a first name bases._

_I guess I need to write about my day. It was actually really good – I felt on top of the world. Unstoppable. I could do anything. As gay as that sounds. (I really hope Ray and Michael never read this. If you are reading this now, I hate you.)_

_I’ve been feeling great for about a month. I truly think I am getting better, and it’s amazing. I wake up with such a lust for life that I just feel indescribable._

_I have the guys to thank for it, partly. They’re amazing, and I love them. They’ve changed me in so many ways I can’t begin to mention it. They’ll never know either, because that would involved telling them about my past and present and I can’t do that. Never. No._

_The other part is to do with Mark I guess. I met him two years ago, and I’ve just stuck with him since. He gets me, for the most part._

_I’m not sure what else to write. I’m going to need to get into the swing of things I suppose. I think Geoff’s coming down to see me. I smell food. I was actually getting hungry (is that significant enough to write about?)_

_-Gavin._


	3. The Panic Attack

***Chapter 3***

_“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”_

_― Eleanor Roosevelt_

 

**January, 26th 2014**

_~~Dear Diary~~ _

_Sorry I didn’t write last night. I forgot I was keeping this in the first place (Why am I apologising to a notepad?)._

_I had a nightmare last night. The same one I have before. Where I wake up in cold sweat, sobbing hysterically and can’t, no matter how hard I try, get back to sleep again afterwards. The one about my step-dad._

_Despite everything that has happened to me, it’s always that one time. It’s not even the most significant or more hurtful and traumatising incident, it was just a broken arm, but it’s always that one. Maybe because mum was just sitting there. Knowing but not doing anything. Watching it._

_I’ll tell Mark tomorrow. I’m not concerned, frankly: I’ve had nightmares during my good periods of times before._

_Because of the nightmare, I didn’t get much sleep, and dozed off a little during the editing of the latest Minecraft let’s play. Number something or other. No worries, considering Burnie burst in and threw a shoe at my head. Lindsay accidentally got it on tape and I’m pretty sure I’m getting a bruise._

_Normally, back when I was going through my depressive stage, something like this would have destroyed me. I’d have thought they’d have planned it and wanted to hurt me. But no. I’m getting better I just know it. I’ve never been happier in my life._

_-Gavin_

**January 27th, 2014**

_I went to see Mark today. Luckily, it was after work hours, so I didn’t need to make an excuse like last time. He’s pretty keen on lowering my dosage of lithium and valproate – only prescribed for those with rapid cycling, but I’m not sure. I’ve taken them for about 5 months and I’m so used to them now._

_I told him about the nightmare – and he was pretty concerned. He made me detail the events of it to him, which I did, and he noted they were the exact same as they were the last time I had a nightmare. I knew this already._

_He was slightly worried apparently, as the last time I was having a mania phase, the nightmares began and it triggered my prolonged depressive state. But I assured him things couldn’t be going better._

_I didn’t tell him that I had a nightmare again last night._

_-Gavin_

**January 28th, 2014**

_I’m a little bit worried, but nothing too scary or nothing that I can’t handle. I had a panic attack in work._

_Obviously it’s not the first time I’ve had a panic attack, and I suspect it won’t be the last, but the context that it happened is what unnerved me._

_We were playing minecraft, doing some daft relay race that I knew I wasn’t going to win, when Ryan made a comment about “Gavin getting raped in the ass.”_

_I just froze – inevitably loosing – and then got up and left, telling the rest of the group that I had to piss._

_I locked myself in the bathroom, and began to hyperventilate. It wasn’t even the worst attack I’ve had, not by a mile. But my hands were shaking and my legs and my chest got too tight and I thought I was going to die._

_I haven’t found that word triggering in months._

_That’s what worries me the most._

_But as I say, it’s probably nothing. Everyone who’s bipolar slips up, doesn’t mean I’m falling back into my depression. No way. If I keep telling myself I’m not, maybe I won’t. I can’t. Not again._

_-Gavin_


	4. The Broken Arm

**_*Chapter 3*_ **

_“Bipolar robs you of that which is you. It can take from you the very core of your being and replace it with something that is completely opposite of who and what you truly are. Because my bipolar went untreated for so long, I spent many years looking in the mirror and seeing a person I did not recognize or understand. Not only did bipolar rob me of my sanity, but it robbed me of my ability to see beyond the space it dictated me to look. I no longer could tell reality from fantasy, and I walked in a world no longer my own.”_ _  
―_ _[Alyssa Reyans](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5756736.Alyssa_Reyans) _

**January 30 th, 2014**

_I didn’t write last night again – I was completely exhausted from work (not unusual) and the second I got home, I basically collapsed on my bed._

_And had that goddamn nightmare again._

_It always starts off the same. Ends the same._

_I’m at home. About ten years old, perhaps a year older. I’ve always had a baby face, so I’m judging by height alone._

_My step-dad comes into the living-room, where mum and I are sitting._

_“YOU LITTLE SHIT!” He screams. He’s drunk._

_He walks over to me, grabs the front of my shirt, and pulls me close to his face._

_“YOU BRAT!”_

_“Dad, dad, please, no,” I beg. Terrified. I’m too small, too weak to break from his grip. His breath is tainted with alcohol, and I can almost taste it as he comes face to face with me, hollering abuse, and I can feel the warmth of his heavy breaths against the skin of my neck._

_“Get me a fucking drink.”_

_He tosses me to the side as if I am nothing more than a rag-doll. I pick myself up, wiping my tears, making sure he doesn’t see._

_He doesn’t like it if I cry._

_I stagger to the kitchen, trying to catch my breath. I’m shaking so much, it feels like I’m falling of the edge of the world._

_I take the bottle – liquor – from the fridge. But I’m quivering too much, and it drops and shatters on the floor before I can save it._

_My heart drops. I try and clean it, hide it, preying he didn’t hear. But he did. And he’s angry._

_He sees me kneeling in a pool of alcohol – his alcohol – and shards of glass._

_“YOU BASTARD!”_

_He grabs my arms, his immense grip could snap my arm in two in seconds. Or that’s what is feels like._

_And he does._

_He begins to twist my arm, slowly, painfully, torturing._

_I’m shrieking, sobbing in agony, “Daddy no, daddy please, stop, no!”_

_Suddenly, a horrific crunch is echoed throughout the kitchen. My legs buckled, the sheering pain too much._

_In one last effort to keep me awake, he slaps me across my face. I taste blood._

_He drops me down, and my human instant, I throw my arms out to protect me._

_I land of the broken arm, screaming hysterically._

_Just before I collapse, I hear my step-dad saying to my mum, “We’ll take him to hospital after our shows. No rush.”_

_…I don’t feel like writing much anymore._

_-Gavin_


	5. The Scream

***Chapter 5***

_There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear.”_ _  
―_ _[Richelle E. Goodrich](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5082833.Richelle_E_Goodrich) _

**February 1 st, 2014**

_So I had a nightmare again the other night. I don’t remember. How do I know?_

_Geoff heard._

_Yes – you heard me right (can notepads even hear things?). Apparently he was in the garden, putting something in the bin, and he heard me screaming in my sleep._

_At work, when I was editing, he pulled me aside and said, “Listen Gav, are you sleeping ok?”_

_“Uh, yeah, just a bit stressed. Why?” I think I replied._

_“It’s just, I was out in the garden last night – putting bottles in the bin – and I heard you screaming. I went to see if you were ok, but you were asleep. I think you must have been having a nightmare or something, but it stopped nearly right away, so I didn’t wake you up,”_

_“Really? Did I say anything”_

_“No, just screamed,”_

_“Uh, well, must have been a bad dream. I don’t remember anything, but yeah, I’m good,”_

_I don’t think he believes me much in all honesty – he kept giving me shifty looks during work._

_That is terrifying however – I had no idea I screamed in my sleep. It must have been a one off, must have, otherwise someone would I heard before, like all those nights where I crashed at Ray’s or Michael’s, or fell asleep at work._

_In other news, I am so behind on work. It’s stressing me the fuck out. Everything just seems on top of me now. The panic attack, nightmares, screaming, stress. That’s how is started off the last time._

_I think I need to keep on my meds, but I’m only allowed them for 6 months at a time._

_Mark lowered my dosage yesterday when I went to see him – more than I thought surprisingly. He said I’d feel a bit twitchy and snap a lot – and I have – but it’s still a bit…weird I suppose._

_-Gavin_

**February 2 nd, 2014 **

_I’m writing this at work. It’s late – I’m pretty sure I’m the last person here actually._

_I’m shaking. It’s really difficult to write. I’m trying not to pay attention to it – ignore it and it’ll go away, kinda like what Ray says about me._

_Maybe he hates me._

_I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone hated me here. I’m so goddamned loud, and annoying, and…British. I mean, everyone makes fun of me enough, so it wouldn’t surprise me if it was all true._

_And I just know Geoff hates me. I’m such a burden on him. Since I got here. I should just go back to the UK and be done with it all. They’ll never have to see me again and everything will be fine._

_My breathing is getting quicker. I’m trying to do the breathing technique’s Mark showed me. Picture walking into an empty room that only has a table, piece of paper, pen and a ballot box. Write your worry on the paper:_

_-everyone hates me_

_-I’m a burden_

_-I can’t do anything right_

_-It’s my fault everything bad has happened to be_

_-I’m a fuck up_

_Fold the paper up. Put it in the box. Leave the room._

_It sometimes works. Apparently not today._

_Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this. FUCK THIS._

_This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Why me? What have I done? My chest is so tight. I feel like I’m dying. My tears are making the paper damp. I’m so weak._

_I want to cut again. To burn. Why the fuck did I leave my blade at home? What I wouldn’t give to have it here now._

_I’m so fucking weak, wanting to cut. I hate myself. I hate myself. Die. JUST DIE._

_IT’S MY FAULT. EVERYTHING IS MY FUCKING FAULT. IT’S MY FAULT MY STEP-DAD HIT ME. IT’S MY FAULT HE RAPED ME. IT’S MY FAULT MY MUM KILLED HERSELF – SHE DIDN’T WANT A FAILURE OF A SON. IT’S MY FAULT THEY ALL HATE IT._

_YOU’RE WEAK_

_YOU’RE WEAK_

_FUCK ._

 

~~_FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK_ ~~

FAG 

 

 

                                          WEAK  

 

 MY FAULT                                  FREAK 

 

DIE                  DIE 

 

 

             DIE 

 

 


	6. The Angst

***Chapter 6***

_“I DON'T CARE!...I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"_ __  
"You do care," said Dumbledore…”You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”  
―  [J.K. Rowling](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1077326.J_K_Rowling)

Geoff stopped reading. He blinked furiously, his tears making it difficult to see the pages on his lap. He quivered in his seat, dropping the diary, and standing up sharply. Turning, he walked over the wall and rested his head on it, his heavy, yet silent sobs worsening and his back shaking heavily.

 

Normally, the man would have be comforted, but the rest of the men in the room, that being Ray, Michael, Ryan and Jack, were all in their own world of hurt, completely oblivious to the pain of the others.

 

Or perhaps they were aware, which only made their own internal pain that much worse.

 

Jack had his head lowered, elbow on his knee keeping it up, his fingers covering his eyes, a few tears escaping.

 

Ryan stood, looking out the window, his eyes glazed over in fear, tears building up in his eyes that he so desperately tried to hide.

 

Ray, surprisingly, wasn’t sobbing like he did when Gavin first arrived at the hospital. He sat, in complete silence, stone dead stare directed at the ground.

 

Michael was clutching Gavin’s hand with all his force, trying not to break down, breathing heavily.

 

“I can’t…” Geoff hiccupped, “I can’t…I can’t read anymore. Not today. I need a break. Please.”

 

Although he didn’t see it, Ryan nodded behind him, “We all do. We need time to go home and process this, come back tomorrow when we’ve calmed,” the voice of reason said dully.

 

“He’ll be ok,” Geoff said suddenly, glancing at Gavin.

 

“We’d kill him if he wasn’t,” Jack smiled sadly.

 

* * *

 

Geoff went home that night. Well, not exactly. He went to Gavin’s house at the end of the garden.

 

He sat on his bed, keeping his composer for a couple of minutes, before letting out a howl and breaking down completely.

  
He slid to the floor, pulling Gavin’s sheets with him, wrapping them around him and sobbing into them; taking in the smell of the Brit. His very essence, as if the sheets from his bed were the boy himself.

 

Griffon wandered in, took one look at her husband, and dropped to the ground next to him, pulling him into her chest, and rubbed his back in a bid to soothe him.

 

“How did we not…how did we not fucking notice?” He wailed.

 

They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity.

 

* * *

 

Ray hadn’t wanted to be alone that night. He couldn’t. And luckily for him, neither could Michael.

 

They drove to Michael’s in complete silence, apart from the noise of the rolling wheels against the gravel of the roads.

 

Suddenly, Michael began to shake the car slightly from side to side. It was near pitch dark, the only light on the road coming from the headlights of the car.

 

Ray was about to pull Michael up for his recklessness, when the lad parked the car on the side of the road.

 

“Michael, are you ok?”

 

Michael slammed his head against the steering wheel, his back quivering from furious sobs.

 

Ray, biting his lip to avoid similar pain, rubbed his friends back, “Michael, it’s ok, he’ll be fine, I promise you, why are you crying?”

 

Michael whispered from the steering wheel, “How are you not?”

 

“How do you now I’m not?”

 

Michael raised his head, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve, and saw Ray, tears streaming down his face.

 

“I’m not trying to be gay, but can you hold my hand?”

 

Ray nodded, and the two men sat in the car, shedding tears of pain.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack didn’t go home immediately.

  
He went for a walk, the cold night wind sending a shiver down his spine. He shook, but tried not to pay too much attention to it.

 

For someone who was fairly laid back, he was trying so hard not to loose it.

 

Turning the corner, he felt the first tears whelming in his eyes.

 

Quickening his pace, he walked through the gates to the hospital park, empty at this time, but typically for small children.

 

He sat on the bench, breathing heavily, and buried his face into his hands, finally breaking down.

 

He didn’t leave the park for the remainder of the night.

 

 

* * *

 

The only person that didn’t leave the hospital room that night was Ryan. He sat, walking the rising and falling chest of the younger men in the bed before him.

 

Sighing, the tugged the bandage covering one of his wrists.

 

“Gavin why,” he whispered.

 

Ryan was terrified of reading the rest of the journal tomorrow, be he knew he must. For Gavin. For the others.

 

Without realising it, the bandage gave way, and Gavin’s arm was on show.

 

“Oh Gavin…”

 

Cuts and burns ran up the course of his lower arm, so much so, barely any skin showed. Some of the cuts reddened, blood beginning to lightly form like paper cuts over his tanned skin, after sudden exposure.

 

Ryan lowered his head onto Gavin’s stomach, tears dropping down onto his shirt.


	7. The Menstruating

***Chapter 7***

_“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”_ _  
―_ _[F. Scott Fitzgerald](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3190.F_Scott_Fitzgerald) _

**February, 7 th 2014 **

_I haven’t written in 5 days. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t bare to look at that page. My break-down._

_I haven’t had a break down like that in ages. I was terrified._

_When I got home that night, I cut all over my arms, and thighs. I thought I was going to pass out from blood loss. But I didn’t, so I didn’t call an ambulance. I just bandaged them up myself and have been wearing long sleeves since._

_Luckily it’s still a bit chilly outside so I can claim to be cold._

_I’ve tried my best to act normal around everyone, but it’s so hard, and I can’t do it._

_Jack noticed actually, which surprised me a little. It’s not that we aren’t friends or anything, it’s just, we don’t really talk that much._

_Near the end of work, it was just the two of us in the office, and he turned to me and said, “Listen, dude, are you ok? You seem off. Something on your mind?”_

_I was shocked, but I turned around and smiled and said, “Nope! Just menstruating,” and he howled with laughter and changed the subject._

_But I wasn’t ok, I was having suicidal thoughts._

_When I get like that, it isn’t a sudden thing, I sit there, wondering what would happen if I died, who’d go to my funeral, who’d cry, and so on. Something many people will have thought of to be honest._

_But then things start getting twisted, and my mind stars screaming at me “JUST DO IT YOU FAG NO ONE WOULD MISS YOU WHO WANTS AN ASS FUCKED, IDIOT HOMO ABOUT ANYWAY”_

_And then I want to do it, more than I want anything else in the world, at that moment, all I want is to not take my next breath._

_-Gavin_

**February 8 th, 2014**

_Mark asked me how my journal was coming along today. I told him it was good – helped me cope when I had anxiety._

_Total bullshit._

_And, to make matters worse, I’m completely off my tablets now. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Mostly worry I suppose._

_Mark says I should write about what happened to me when I was little…my worse memories. The rape. The abuse. And then, when I have written on every page in the book, I set fire to it. Sort of like closure._

_  
For once, it seems like a good idea._

_So I will. But not tonight. Tomorrow, when I have prepared myself. Because it will be the first time anyone has heard my story out with Mark. And even he doesn’t know all of it._

_-Gavin_


	8. The Rape

***Chapter 8***

_“Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.”_ _  
―_ _[Richard Kadrey](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/37557.Richard_Kadrey) _

**February, 9 th, 2014 **

_My dad – my biological father that is – died when I was about four. Although my memories were limited only to the photos of him and I together above the mantel piece (ones my mum took down when she married my step-father), I knew that I loved him, and I still miss and long for his presence today._

_My mum met Rick – my step-father – when I was 7. He was great at first, took me places, bought me toys and sweets, but when him and mum got married (I must have been about 8 by then), things began going down hill._

_Mum and Rick began arguing all the time. Daily. I’d lie in bed with a pillow wrapped around my head in a desperate bid to block it out, crying._

_Mum began drinking, became an alcoholic in a matter of months, and so did Rick. They’d come home, wasted, covered in vomit, screaming the house down, hurling abuse at each other. Then Rick would storm out to drink some more, and I’d shuffle out my room, and drag mum off the couch, and into the bathroom. Clean her up. Glass of water. Off to bed._

_Mum became a shadow of herself – frail, weak, sick, wasting her money on drink. It was like a domino effect, her ghostly appearance soon became mine as lack of money meant lack of food. She forget everything that mattered, and her days washed by in a blur of reality TV, binge drinking, and sleeping._

_With mum practically out the picture, Rick began beating me. He beat me if I didn’t do my chores properly. If I was late home from school. If I dropped something. If I didn’t sit up straight. If I called him “Rick” instead of “Daddy”. If I talked back._

_I’d hide my bruises under un-ironed shirts, shrugged off teachers worry, told them I fell out a tree. Banged into the table. Tripped over my own feet.  When my dad broke my arm, I told them I fell off my bike. I’m not sure if they ever suspected I was abused._

_I was 12 when I was raped._

_I still remember his lingering, alcohol-filled breath. The uncomfortable warmth of his hands on my neck._

_I don’t think Rick was gay – I’ve walked in on him cheating on mum with other women enough times to confirm that – I think it was just another way for him to say “Look at me. I’m in charge here. And you’re my puppet to do with what I please.”_

_I’d come home from school – mum was out. To this day I still don’t know where she had been – and I walked in on Rick fucking some other chick, about 30 years his younger, on the couch in the living room._

_He swore when he saw me, and the girl sat up. “A fucking kid? You didn’t tell me you had a fucking kid?”_

_“He’s not my kid.”_

_The girl got up, hurriedly dressed and ran out the house._

_Rick got up, hurling his insult at me, “You little shit, you fucking brat,” and so on. About how I ruined it for him. How I am a failure. A faggot._

_“I’ll prove to you how much of a faggot you are,”_

_And there, on the floor, he did it._

~~_He raped me._ ~~

_-Gavin_


	9. The Suicide

***Chapter 9***

_“Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul.”_ _  
― [Dave Pelzer](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1881.Dave_Pelzer) _

****

**February 10 th, 2014 **

_Sorry I stopped writing. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack – I could feel it building up, and realised I was clutching the pen with all my might. I just went to bed, narrowly avoiding having one. I think._

_After_ _the rape, things got worse. The beatings got more and more frequent. The worst time, the absolute worse time,_ _was when he held my head under the bath water for a bit too long, and when I fought against him, he smashed my head against the bathroom wall and pushed me down the stairs._

_I was in a medically induced coma for 3 days._

_That was when I was fifteen._

_As I got older, I managed to fight back – regardless of my lack of strength (Michael will vouch for that one), I could land a punch or two and get him to back off._

_So he moved onto my alcoholic waste of a mother. Beating her until I could hear her screams and sobs through my pillow covering my ears. Black and blue, she was._

_Part of me was sad, she was my mother - in some sense - and didn’t deserve the abuse. But then, it meant sometimes I was safe. For the first time in my life. And I hate myself for being even slightly happy that the abuse passed on._

_My mother killed herself when I was 17. I came home, flinging my shoes and bag into my bedroom after school, and staggered to the kitchen to get food of some form._

_She’d hung herself in the middle of the living room, from the ceiling._

_I remember the whole day being a blur. Nurses. Doctors. Police. Ambulances. Holding my mother’s body, crying, screaming, remembering those good times we had back when my biological father was alive. Before Rick._

_When everyone left that night, when I was finally alone, I knew I couldn’t stay. Rick had, in a roundabout way, killed my mother, and I knew he would turn on me again._

_I grabbed my duffel bag, Rick’s and my mothers credit cards, one pair of clothes, and got the fuck out of there. In between crashing on Dan's couch for a few months, I got my first job, and things just began looking up career wise. I eventually ended up in Texas with the greatest people I have ever met._

_But my mental state deteriorated daily._

_I cut. Straved. Purged. Burned. Anything to make me feel. _

_When I first moved to Texas, I knew I had to attempt to sort my life out. So that’s how I met Mark._

_But I have no idea what happened to Rick. If he is dead. Still at my house. Remarried. Whatever. I never said goodbye._

_And I’m fucking glad._

_-Gavin_


	10. The Therapist

***Chapter 10***

_“I don't-" I shake my head. (...)_ _  
"What? What were you going to say?"_

_This is another trick of shrinks. They never let you stop in midthought. If you open your mouth, they want to know exactly what you had the intention of saying.”_ _  
―_ _[Ned Vizzini](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11672.Ned_Vizzini) _

****

**February 11 th, 2014 **

_I realise I have been slacking a little in talking about my daily life and emotions recently. To be honest, I have been feeling a lot better the past couple of days, by getting all these bottles up words onto a bit of paper. Writing about my secrets, instead of my daily life, is proving to be helpful. So all of my mindless nothings will have to wait, because I have more I want to say._

_I met Mark, Dr. Cameron that is, many years ago. I did not, of course, visit for all these years in a row. I came back and forth, and eventually have been steadily visiting him weekly or fortnightly for a year now._

_I can remember our first meeting almost perfectly. Me, sitting in the waiting room, alone, with a plastic cup once full of water in my shaking hands. I was so nervous, I kept pulling at it and crumpling it, over and over. It was something to keep me distracted from what I was sure would be in inevitable doom._

_He walks into the waiting room, and I am staggered at how he looks. Tall, very slim but not unhealthy, with floppy and messy blonde hair, a shirt, skinny jeans and a clipboard._

_“Gavin Free?” He asks, with a thick Scottish accent._

_“Uh, yeah that’s me,” I discard my destroyed plastic behind me, preying he doesn’t see._

_Mark shakes my hand, and tells me to follow him. The room we are in has a grey carpet and yellow walls, with three sofa chairs, table and a computer. Pleasantly minimalist._

_“To be honest,” I admit, “You look different than what I thought you’d be,”_

_Mark laughs, “Yeah, I get that a lot. I’m the youngest here – people don’t think I’m up for the job. I see your not from Texas yourself?”_

_I shake my head, “English,”_

_“Scottish,” Mark retaliates, laughing a little, “Back home, you and I would be mortal enemies,”_

_I laughed, and realise how relaxed I am already. Marks casualness was actually something I appreciated._

_“So, Gavin, why are you here?”_

_“I’m mess up, ain’t I?”_

_  
Mark laughed again, “We all are. What’s really up?”_

_“It’s my past, and my present I guess. As cliché as it sounds,”_

_Mark shook his head, “Not at all. Our past effects out present, affecting our future. To help you, I need to understand it all,”_

_Mark tells me that we are going to make a timetable, from some of my earliest and significant memories, up until the present day._

_As the sessions went on, I found myself so comfortable around Mark. He was like me in many ways, he took a situation lightly when needed and serious the required. He knew how to react, how to comfort, how to relate to me._

_I guess that’s why I kept going back._

_-Gavin_

**February, 11 th, 2014 **

NO

 

PLEASE NO

 

NO

 

NO

 

PLEASE

 

I CAN’T

 

I’M SHAKING

 

I CAN’T WRITE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Isaac_Kran for inspiring me to write this passage in Gavin's diary :)
> 
> PS: Mark is based entirely on my boyfriend. Same name. Both Scottish. Same apperance. However, considering my Mark is 15 and in school, I'd be a bit shocked if he was like a wee secret therapist, like a therapy Batman or something. 
> 
> PPS: Gavin's therapy experience is based around my experience in CAMHS. I don't know what therapy is like in other countries so don't yell at me please. My experience is with Scottish therapies alone.


	11. The Phone Call

 

***Chapter 11***

_“You get hit the hardest when trying to run or hide from a problem. Like the defence on a football field, putting all focus on evading only one defender is asking to be blindsided.”_ _  
―_ _[Criss Jami](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4860176.Criss_Jami) _

 

**February 12 th, 2014**

_Oh god. He found me. He fucking found me. I thought he’d never see me again._

_Fuck._

_I was in my house yesterday, just sitting, thinking, eating. Usual stuff. And then I got a phone call._

_“Hello?” I asked when I picked it up._

_  
“Gavin?”_

_“Yes, who is this?” I asked. But my stomach was already knotting up. I knew who it was. I’d recognise that voice until the end of my days._

_“I finally found you, you little shit,” The voice suddenly became harsh, like a flip of a switch._

_My heart dropped._

_“Rick?”_

_“Obviously you fucking idiot, Texas? Seriously? I’m coming to get you, and I am going to kill you,”_

_The last three words were singsong, as if he looked forward to it._

_Then he hung up._

* * *

 

_It’s been twenty minutes since I wrote that. I had to get a glass of water and calm down. I haven’t stopped shaking. I feel like I am being watched. What if he is here? Right now?_

_Oh god I need to tell someone._

_No, I can’t. They’ll find out my past._

_How did he find my number? Did he threaten Dan? That’s the only reason I can think of._

_I keep jumping at the slightest noises. Anything. Even the bloody wind._

_What if he knows where I live? What if Geoff lets him in, thinking he’s nice or something?_

_How the hell am I going to get away from him?_

_Someone help me._

_-Gavin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short - I could lie and say it is for DRAMATIC EFFECT but I am actually studying for exams, so yeah, much apologies. 
> 
> Warning: the journal is nearly finished. Soon we are going to return to the hospital room with much angst. Brace yourself.


	12. The Goodbye

***Chapter 12***

_“It's really a wonder that I haven't_ _dropped_ _all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”_ _  
―_ _[Anne Frank](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3720.Anne_Frank) _

**March 1 st, 2014**

_I’ve avoided writing in this for so long. It just reminds me of so much. How well I was doing. How I was slowly healing. Then me falling again. Back into that abyss where nobody but myself can help me climb out off, but all my demons are dragging me back down._

_I realise that may be dramatic, but that’s how it is._

_These past few weeks haven’t been easy. In fact, it’s been hell. Hell on earth. He won’t stop harassing me, calling me, sending me letters (letters I burn in the early hours of the morning so nobody will have to see ever – although the words are like a carving in my mind). And I know it won’t stop – he knows I won’t go to the police or tell anyone._

_He’s going to kill me._

_I know he is – he’s detailed it so many times in the phone calls and letters. And it’s getting worse. He gets off on telling me how much he wants to hear the shattering of my bones against the concrete, the smell of gunpower as he shoots me in the head._

_With every phone call he gets more and more aggressive. He knows where I live; he’s sent me letters detailing the curtains on my windows, my bathroom when he’s looked through the windows._

_I have no idea when he came and looked._

_And what if, what if he gets me? Kills me, but thirsts for more. Covering in blood, in a rage, he goes mad and runs up the garden. He goes to Geoff’s house. Hurts them. Even if I was dead, I could never forgive myself._

_All this has made me a nervous wreck. I knew jumping at the littlest noises – a slight breeze coming through my door. A cough from Ray as we sit alone in the office finishing over-due edits._

_I can’t function. I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. My world is crashing down and I know he will kill me._

_He could have already – but he likes playing his little mind games with me. If he didn’t, I’d be gone._

_And I can’t let harm come to any of my adoptive family. Not now, or ever._

_So I am going to die._

_But not by his hand. By my own._

_Because not only will he stop his abuse, he’ll leave. Go back to the UK. Because he wouldn’t hurt Geoff or Griffon or Millie if he wasn’t there, in the moment, killing me. Once I am gone – nothing else will be here for him. Plus, I won’t get depressed. I won’t cut. I won’t panic. I’ll be happy. So goddamn happy._

_This is what I need._

_This is what I want._

_I’m going to do it tomorrow. Take the day off work. Pretend I’m sick. Write one last entry._

_Then I’m done._

_-Gavin_

**March 2 nd, 2014**

_Dear diary._

_I said I’d never write that – but it seems fitting. Like closure, in a sense. I started off with that, and it shall end like that._

_It’s about 3pm. Everyone is away, I’m alone._

_Even as I write, I’ve began taking pills. Enough to leave me functioning to write this, but enough to kick things off._

_I’m just going to take as many pills as I can. Slit my wrists. Die._

_My final “fuck you” to him and my final “fuck you” to mental illness._

_I don’t have much to say. I expect the guys will find this, eventually. Perhaps I should say something then._

**_Jack:_ ** _While we were never particularly close when I first arrived in Texas, over the years an amazing friendship has formed. I can come to you in knots, and within 5 minutes you’ve untied me and made sense of my troubles. I’ll miss you, your ridiculous sarcasm and that goddamn fabulous beard. Thank you for your guidance and wisdom._

**_Ryan:_ ** _Similarly to Jack, you’re like the physical manifestation of my conscience. You’ve steered me in the right directions, and make me wet myself laughing the process. You’ve taught me so much, about myself and about our friends and life as a whole, and without your support I think I’d still be in nappies (or diapers as you Amercian’s call them.)_

**_Ray:_ ** _My X-Ray, my Puerto Rican Thunder. You’re my lad, and I love the hell out of you. You’ve been there for me from the start, and you and Michael are the best friends I have. I’ll miss our superhero adventures, our hilarity, our inside jokes. I don’t think I have ever thanked you for all those times you have driven me home while I was drunk out my mind, and rubbed my back as I vomited into the toilet. So thank you._

**_Michael:_ ** _What can I say? You’re my boy. My sister from another mister. You know everything about me (well…almost, if you’re reading this then you’ll know what I haven’t told you.) You’ve stuck by me through heart ache, illness and general twatness. I thank you a million times over, and over._

**_Geoff:_ ** _To you, Geoff, I owe the biggest thanks. You’ve taken me in, like a son, and make me feel welcome in a country that wasn’t my own. I owe you more than my mere words can express. You are the kindest, most important person I’ve ever met and I can never express how much you, and your family, mean to me._

_And to all of you, my friends, you are like a family to me. Geoff; my father. Jack and Ryan; the wise, but creepy gay uncles. And Ray and Michael; my annoying ass brothers. You are the greatest group of people I have known, and it was an honour to spend my final years with you. I will love you to the end of my days in hell, and even longer. Without each and every one of you, I would not be the person I was today, and I’d be damned if I ever know what that person, the one without you lot, would be like._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Gavin Free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was not crying a little when I wrote this ;__:


	13. A/N

Hey guys, um, there is not going to be any updates for the foreseeable future. 

The reason is my house was robbed last night.

They took my parents credit/debit cards, my bank details, our front and back door keys, my laptop (so I can't write), both our cars and my dads wallet.

They only left us with our ridiculously large TV. 

I'm writing this on my phone during geography. It is so frustrating because my exams start next week and a lot of my work and study notes are on my laptop.

Nobody was hurt, thankfully.

My parents are at home waiting for details from the police. Our living room window was left wide open and our front door was unlocked (they took the keys to get out. They still have the key for the front and back so we need our locks changed)

Sorry

-Amy x


	14. The Crashing

***Chapter 13***

_“The coma carried me into a world where time and space seemed to vanish; it was a dreamlike existence in which people, places, and situations shifted as quickly as thoughts. I had a profound sense of being at a crossroads, a turning point, somewhere between death and life...”  
― [Hal Zina Bennett](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8071.Hal_Zina_Bennett)_

 

The group was giving mere moments of heart-breaking mourning before a wild beeping began to hammer across the room. 

 

"What the fuck is that?" Ray's head shot up, look at Geoff. His bosses face dropped and whitened. He flung open the door.

 

"SOMEONE HELP," 

 

Gavin's doctor, the one who'd admitted him on the first night of the incident, came flying in with a nurse. 

  
"He's coding," He turned to the door, "WE NEED A CRASH CART,"

  
In a minute of blind panic, the men had been taken from the room, into the hall. The last thing Geoff saw before a curtain fell across the window to Gavin's room  was the young Brit's gown being ripped open and a defibrillator being slammed onto his chest as the doctor's fought for his life.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long :/ not much has really happened. I'm still waiting for a laptop, but I was so fed up of not uploading that I wrote this on my phone (which is why it is so short.) We won't be getting any of our stuff back, that's all I know.
> 
> I've sat every exam but one now (Maths, English, Modern Studies, History, Drama, and I still need to sit Geography). They're going good :)
> 
> I'm 16 now! :D It was my birthday on Wednesday! I got my septum pierced. I look hawt. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kind words! Really got me through this xxx


	15. The Survival

**Chapter 14**

_“Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest.”_   
_― Carrie Ryan_

 

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became hours. 

But, finally, they had news.

"Is he going to be ok?"

"Is he dead?"

"What happened?"

Questions shot out like bullets at the poor, young doctor. He paused before answering, perhaps for too long, but he finally grinned, "Your friend Gavin is fine - he's still in a coma, but he is stable and breathing. It's up to him now, we can do no more,"

Sincere thanks, hands shaking, and the men flooded back into Gavin's all-too familiar hospital room. 

He lay, peacefully, and a machine beeped reassuringly steady in the background.

Geoff sat in the seat next to the bed, grateful for a moments rest. He'd been pacing the hospital floor for god knows how long.

He slid his hand into the Gavin's, clutching tight, preying for some sort of response. Not that he expected one. 

The other men glanced at each other, and shuffled out the room. They understood that Geoff had taken the fall for the situation, and put so much pressure on himself, and blame. The least the could do, at the moment, was allow him some peace for the night. And knowing that Gavin had survive, they could rest easily at home.

 

***

Geoff sat up sharply. When did he doze off? He yawned, and rubbed his eyes, before glancing at his watch.

3:17 am.

Christ, how long was he out for? He needed to get home, he reeked and he couldn't remember the last time he spoke to Griffon and Millie for more than 20 minutes. 

He yawned a second time, chuckling a little and shaking his head. He was a mess. 

He closed his eyes, trying to get as comfortable as he could on such an awkward chair. How did he manage to sleep the first time? 

Moments, or perhaps hours, he had no idea, Geoff could feel himself falling asleep again, his hand intertwined with Gavin's.

Just as his eyelids were about to fall shut, he felt something. His eyes shot open. 

_Probably just imaging things._

It happened again.

Geoff's heart thudded against his chest.

And a third time, it happened.

Gavin's hand squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT MY LAPTOP AT LAST
> 
> I AM BACK
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL


	16. The Sunrise

**Chapter 15**

_“The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert.”  
― Jarod Kintz_

 

Geoff grabbed the lads hand, "Gavin, come on, Gavin can you hear me?" His words ran into each other, meaningless gibberish, but anything for Gavin to hear and cling onto. 

Suddenly, Gavin's hand stopped moving.

Geoff, tears whelming in his eyes froze, shaking his head, "No Gavin, no, please, you bastard come back,"

A few more seconds scrapped by like hours, Geoff's tears pouring down his face.

Then, finally, a miracle.

Gavin's eyes slowly flickered open. Geoff stared, unsure, unblinking.

Gavin's eyes took a few moments of shutting and opening again to adjust to the light. They searched the room for something, anything familiar. They found Geoff and widened, settling on him. 

Shaking hands freed themselves from Geoff's, and gingerly removed the oxygen mask on his face.

A moment of silence as the two men stared at each other, then,

"You look like shit." 

Geoff let out a wail, and leapt onto Gavin, hugging him and sobbing hysterically. He thought he'd never hear that annoying as fuck accent again. 

"You bastard, you fucking bastard, you fuck-" he sobbed into the confused Brit's shoulder, not even bothering to keep it together.

 "Geoff..."

 Geoff sat up, rubbing his eyes on the back of his hand. He hiccuped, grinned and laughed, "Yeah?"

 "What the fuck happened to me?" Gavin stared, his face still pale. Geoff sighed, and shook his head, his hand on the back of his neck.

"You don't remember anything?"

 Gavin's eyes fell to the floor, "Just one thing, but nothing after. It's not important though,"

 Geoff sighed a second time, then inhaled deeply, "I know Gavin, we, we all know,"

 "The-the suicide?"

 Geoff nodded, and put his hand on Gavin's knee, leaning forward, "It's why you're here,"

 "What happened to me?"

 "I found you," Geoff paused, closing his eyes as if to stop himself seeing the memory of that night, "You were messed up. Vomiting all over the place, having fits. You...you were in a coma, dude,"

 Gavin nodded, almost as if he expected it, "How long?"

 "I can't even remember, a couple of weeks maybe?" 

 "What did the others say?"

 Geoff shrugged, "What you'd expect really. Why? Will he be ok? Can I have his stuff?" 

 Gavin snorted, and Geoff grinned, glad to see he wasn't taking the situation too hard. At least he hoped. 

 Geoff suddenly got a new wave of energy, "Want me to call them? I can have them come now, they would, they've been so worried-" Geoff reached for his phone as he rambled. but Gavin reached forward, wincing in pain, and grabbed his hand.

"Not yet, please. I need a sometime. Some peace."

 "Want me to go?"

 "No. Your moustache is incredibly calming. It's got, like, this peaceful aura, it soothes my zen, you feel me?"

 "You're a twat,"

 Gavin flashed him a toothy smile, and groaned, grabbing his stomach. 

 "Are you ok? Do you want a nurse?"  Geoff's voice rose in sudden fatherly fear.

 "No, stop harassing me, you'll disrupt my zen,"

 "Do you want a glass of water at least?"

 Gavin closed his eyes and nodded, then watched as Geoff reached up to the high oak hospital cupboard, grabbing the jug. His eyes widened.

 "What the hell, Geoff?" His voice rose and shook with each word. His arm, still attached to the drip, shot out and grabbed the notepad from the desk. His journal.

 "Gavin, I'm sorry, we found it and-"

 " _You read this?"_ Gavin's voice became sour, hateful, full of sudden hurt and betrayal.

 "We all did, I'm sorry, it helped us-"

 " _All_ of you?"

  _"_ Yes,"

"Lindsay and all of that?" Gavin clutched to it, eyes narrowing.

 "No, no, no, me, Ray, Michael, Ryan and Jack,"

 Gavin lay back again, throwing the book to his feet in disgust, "I guess it was to be expected. So you know? Everything?"

 Geoff felt the tears coming back, "Why didn't you tell us?"

 "What was I meant to say?" Gavin spat, ""Oh hello, yes, my shit dead beat father butt fucked me, I practically killed my mother and now I slit my wrists every other week. So what do you want for dinner?" Hmm yeah, don't think so Geoff,"

 "But we would've helped you, go to the police, stop your father stalking you,"

 "Don't call him my father, he doesn't deserve that. The fuckers probably lying in a ditch somewhere, high or dead,"

 Geoff was scared, he'd never seen such hate come off the lad. He quickly changed the subject, trying to lighten the fowl mood. He had questions to ask, but Gavin clearly wasn't physically or mentally ready to be interrogated about that stuff.

 "Ray was such a tit, didn't stop crying," 

 Gavin smiled a little, almost reluctantly, "I'm not letting him forget about that one. "But Ray, how you cried when I was gone!"" 

 Geoff smiled too, "What's the first thing you're doing when you're better?"

 Gavin shrugged, "Have a bath? I've been lying in this bed for two weeks pissing in a bowl under my ass,"

 "So not much of a change then,"

 Gavin slapped Geoff's leg, then sighed "You miss me?"

 Geoff froze. 

 "Geoff?" Gavin raised his eyebrows.

 "Don't you dare do something like that again. You nearly  _died_  Gavin. They had to use defibrillators because you when into fucking cardiac arrest, we nearly lost you,"

 "Woah," Gavin let out a low breath. Nobody talked for a couple of minutes.

"What time is it?" Gavin asked quietly.

 Geoff shrugged, "Uh, about 4am?"

 "Can you open the curtains? I want to watch the sunrise. It's gay I know, but...just do it?"

Geoff nodded, and pulled himself up from his arm chair, flinging open the curtains, "It's a bit early for dawn just yet, but at least we'll be prepared,"

 He sat back down, and a couple more minutes passed, "It's good to have you back, really,"

Gavin nodded, then his shoulders began to shake. Tears rolled down his eyes, and he began to sob. Geoff leaned forward, pulling him into his chest, allowing him to cry. 

 

***

 

An hour or so passed, without much being said. Not that it was needed. 

Then some shots of golden lights began to creep up over the buildings outside the window, and the sun rose, beckoning in a new day. A new start. 

 Things were going to be very good from now on.

 

        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, we have but one chapter left my lovelies.


	17. The Finale

**Chapter 16**

_“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”_   
_―[Neil Gaiman](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1221698.Neil_Gaiman)_

 

_Dear diary._

_It's Gavin. Obviously. Things have gone from shit, to worse, to rock bottom, but now I'm being to creep my way back up the huge ass mountain that is life. I'll reach the top. Know why? Because I have the guys to support me all the way._

_Jesus, that sounds so bent._

_I can't believe I was in a coma. I still haven't come to terms with it. I don't know if I ever will. The guys think I am coping, but I won't worry them._

_Don't sit there and look at me so judgingly, diary, I'm going to tell Mark. No more secrets. I'm starting back with therapy next week. Everyone wants to come. Not to listen in, but to support me. And to meet Mark. They've promised at least one of them will sit in the waiting room while I am in each appointment. To support me. I owe them so bloody much._

_After me and Geoff watched the sunrise from the shitty, tiny hospital window, we decided to phone the others, one by one, together. We could have made it all loving and end-of-shitty-rom-com beautiful, but we're cruel. Geoff pretended something went awfully wrong, then I'd come in and say hi._

_We phoned Ray first, mainly because I had a loving message I wanted to pass on. The conversation went like this;_

_**Ray:**  Hi, Geoff, are you ok?_

_**Geoff:**  I'm so sorry Ray..._

_**Ray:**  What? What the fuck? Geoff you're scaring me..._

_**Me:**  You gonna cry again like a little girl, Ray?_

_**Ray:**  JESUS FUCKING CHRIST_

_Then we phoned Micheal..._

_**Micheal:**  It's fucking seven in the morning, what the hell do you want?_

_**Geoff:**  It's Gavin..you need to come to hospital now..it's not good_

_**Micheal:**  What's happened? Is he ok? Why is it not good?_

_**Geoff:**  It's not good because...the FUCKER IS BACK WITH US_

_**Me:**  AYYYYYYYYY_

_**Micheal:**  YOU LITTLE SHITS _

_Then Ryan, who probably had the most loving reaction yet._

_**Geoff:** Ryan, you there?_

_**Ryan:** Yeah, is everything ok in the hospital?_

_**Geoff:** It's Gavin..._

_**Ryan:** Oh god no, what now?_

_**Me:** Heyyy Ryan, you miss me?_

_**Ryan:** Ohmigod, oh fuck, oh Jesus, Gavin you asshole_

_Lastly, Jack._

_**Geoff:** Jack, it's an emergency, this is serious_

_**Jack:** What's happened? Did Gavin die?_

_**Geoff:** No but I'm going to kill him because I've been stuck with him all night._

_**Jack:** I don't know what you mean-_

_**Me:** I'm personally very insulted._

_**Jack:** I hate you._

_They all came over. It's was great, but very over whelming, knowing that they know everything. They didn't ask anything, I know Geoff warned them not to. But I'll answer their questions eventually._

_That was a week ago. I'm home now, and it feels so right. When I took the bandages off my arms, during my first long awaited bath, I did cry. It looks bad, really fucking bad. They guys assured me that I can wear short shirts and they won't care. I might do that, but I asked my doctor and I might be qualified for laser treatment in a year or so. And Ryan's buying me this weird foundation for scars, which completely covers them. So I'll survive._

_You're probably wondering why I am writing. This will be my last every entry._

_We're burning this notepad, my journal, today. And my blades. Then having a huge fucking barbecue over your remains. Jack's idea. Closure. I'm looking forward to it._

_I'm sitting in my shed house at the end of the garden, at my desk. If I look out the window I can see Geoff and Micheal attempting to start the fire, and Ray's just waved at me._

_I know things will get better from here on out. I'm not allowed at work for the rest of the month, but that gives me time to unwind and get to grips with life again._

_I know they still aren't used to everything yet. I won't lie - I had a couple panic attacks this week._

_I was in the bathroom and Ray came to visit. I was crying and shaking and I couldn't breath. I was so embarrassed. He heard, and burst open the door and held me. I never felt so...relieved._

_And once, my sleeve slipped down when I was getting ready to leave hospital, and Ryan saw, and flinched, and looked away. And Micheal made a butt-rape joke by accident, and everyone went silent until I assured them the jokes didn't offend me. And for once, it didn't._

_It's onwards and upwards from here on out, journal. I'm the fucking luckiest person alive. I have a life, admittedly the foundations of said life are a little loose, but we are working on that. And I have the greatest circle of friends I could ask for. Fuck that, they're family_

_For you and me, diary. this is were our journey ends. But mine is just starting. Recovery seems a long way into the future, but I know I can make it._

_As they say,_

_I get by with a little help from my friends._

_Sincerely_ _,_

_Gavin David Free, 2014._

_“If you're reading this..._  
Congratulations, you're alive.  
If that's not something to smile about,  
then I don't know what is.”   
― [Chad Sugg](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1934928.Chad_Sugg)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. A million times over. This story was incredible to write, so refreshing and so new for me. You guys have supported me the entire way, and I cannot thank you enough for the inspiring feedback and reaction this fanfic received. I love each and every one of you who read this, hit that kudos button, commented, booked marked or was here for the whole ride. You guys are fantastic and I hope you continue you support my other stories too.
> 
> I'm honestly tearing up a little here, I don't want this to end.
> 
> I love you lot !  
> -Amy x


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